


Below Freezing

by simplyprologue



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Post-Season/Series 02, Reading Aloud, Sharing a Bed, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 13:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6611575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simplyprologue/pseuds/simplyprologue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their first winter on the ground finds Marcus and Abby in tight quarters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Below Freezing

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N:** A prompt fill over on my tumblr that I'm archiving over here. The original can be found at this [post](http://ofhouseadama.tumblr.com/tagged/fic). Obvious _Battlestar Galactica_ reference is obvious.

Their first winter is colder than anticipated. The insulation that kept them warm in space was compromised in the crash landing, making all the rooms on the outside of the station drop down beyond a bearable temperature by the first week of January. 

And thus Abby is frozen out of her quarters. 

Marcus is quick to offer her his bed. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “I think everyone here would prefer it if you were well-rested when you were making important decisions.”

After all, their schedules run almost opposite as Chancellor and Chief Medical Officer versus Head of Security and when it comes down to it, neither of them can afford very much sleep. At the very most, Abby catches a few sparse naps during her shifts in medical and every few days, collapses into bed for what could be considered a “normal” amount of sleep while Marcus rotates through double shifts with the Guard and never knows if he’ll get his six hours at night time or the middle of the afternoon. 

So in theory, they would be able to avoid having to share the single bunk in his quarters. Of course, this isn’t what happens. Not immediately – their sleep schedules only begin to sync up only after Abby is comfortable in sleeping in Marcus’ bed and stops giving him ample forewarning that should he return to his quarters in the next few hours, he’d find her there. 

“Just move over,” she says. 

Marcus blinks. “I can sit at my desk, it’s fine.” 

“You’re obviously tired.” Kicking off her boots, she stares at the mattress, trying to decide the best way to go about sharing it. “And I just had to amputate two toes because someone decided that the frostbite warning was just a suggestion – so  _I’m_ tired. We can share.” 

After all, she’s spent half of her life sharing a bed. Albeit a slightly larger one. But what’s a twin sized mattress between friends? 

A look of discomfort briefly gripping his features, Marcus shifts over until he’s sitting wedged between the headboard and the wall. With a sigh, Abby slides under the covers, turning onto her side so that her back is pressed up against his leg. “What are you reading?” she asks, when she hears him exhale softly and the rustling of pages in his lap. 

“One of those classics they tried to recreate for us in English Lit,” he says, voice low and rumbling and exhausted. “This is a lot better than the poorly-translated-from-the-Portuguese-abridged version they had us read.” 

“Which one was that?” she asks. 

“Searider Falcon.” He lifts himself up to slide under the blankets with her. For a moment, Abby considers rolling to her other side to curl up against his legs, but quickly dismisses the thought. “I should probably sleep, though. I just finished this part, and I don’t want to keep you up with the light–”

As if that could wake her, at this point. 

“One more chapter,” she tells him, curling her fingers into the thick woolen blankets on his bed. “Distract me from the rationing report running through my head.”

He huffs what could be classified as fond laugh. The spine of the book cracks, and she can hear his fingers smoothing over the pages.

“The raft was not as seaworthy as I’d hoped. The waves repeatedly threatened to swamp it. I wasn’t afraid to die. I was afraid of the emptiness that I felt inside. I couldn’t feel anything. And that’s what scared me. You came into my thoughts. I felt them. It felt good…” 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated.


End file.
